


Ink

by DepravedDoll



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-19 13:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepravedDoll/pseuds/DepravedDoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Live,” Piers had whispered and condemned him to a fate of twisted memories, of hushed words and of always longing for what could have been. Follows on from the events of Resident evil 6. Contains spoilers for the game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Ink** _

_It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known._

Piers had this worn beaten old copy of _'A Tale of Two Cities'_ the spine was littered with tiny little bumps and cracks from years of turning pages, of folding the cover back on itself, the cover itself was beginning to peel, little flecks of picture falling apart in his hands. Chris had read it during that first heartbreaking night back at HQ, moments after sorting the younger's belongings into categorized piles. He had been hoping he would find something in those pages, that it would connect him to the soldier he had lost, that it would somehow ease the pain that was swelling within him. His hands touched the pages as though touching delicate skin, fingertips traced words, he had imagined Piers sat upon his bed, back against the wall, left knee raised just slightly, book perched in his hand atop the knee as he studied the words, a wistful smile touching the very corner of his lips.

He wanted to ask that ghost what the book means to him, beyond the words and the binding, it's more than paper and ink, this formed a place in the other's heart. Chris can tell this with ease, there are other books of course, Piers had liked to read, but none like this one, none so dog-eared, pages just barely hanging on, some stuck back in lovingly with tape on either side, only slightly obscuring the words. The ghost doesn't answer, just turns a page with a gentle touch, he watches the turning page, the changing of the scene in the younger's mind. He knows he should have asked on that long dark night just before China, he should have swallowed his pride and listened to Piers as he explained what the words meant to him, how the syllables related, which quotes were forever etched into his mind.

Chris had wished to find redemption in that book, he selfishly had hoped he could alleviate some of the guilt he felt by immersing himself in the few possessions the kid had deemed worthwhile to keep with him through all the missions, all the heartache. In the end he had only caused himself more pain, his hands fixed tightly to the book as he makes a conscious effort to not allow too much pressure to his grip, to not tear the pages from the spine and rip them to shreds. Beneath the guilt and pain there is anger at his partner, anger at the self sacrifice, it's petty and silly but it fills him as surely as the emptiness that began in that oil field.

_“Vengeance and retribution require a long time; it is the rule.”_

Piers had said similar words to him not so long ago, whilst he had traced the elders shadow, keeping him in line, out of trouble, the words echo inside his head as if spoken through Piers' lips. The whole book is read from inside his head in that voice, when he can finally take no more, only when he's thoroughly haunted and feels well versed in the art of suffering does he place that bloodied BSAA patch against the page he has given up on, he allows the pages to kiss against it, pushes the cover closed. He sits in the empty room, his hands gripping the book like a lifeline, he presses it to his lips, as though a bible to a priest, he inhales the scent, closes his eyes against the reality that threatens to drive him mad. He has failed so many times, failed to keep his soldiers safe, this failure echoes so deep within his bones. He sees those eyes staring at him through the glass, the gentle smile tugging at pained lips.

_“Live,”_ Piers had whispered and condemned him to a fate of twisted memories, of hushed words and of always longing for what could have been.

He tries to give the book to Piers' mother, when he stands in the doorway in his military best, he studies the way her eyes shimmer with a wall of tears and her dark blonde hair is neatly pulled back into a bun, struggles with guilt, when she's choking back sobs and trying so hard to stay strong. The sight of it makes her smile, a choked sob of a laugh steels from her lips and a tear tumbles across her skin, Chris thinks she looks too young to be the kids mother, she's pretty like him, he has her eyes, too green, too loving. He will find out much later that she lost her husband to a different war, a different time, and he thinks of her sat at home with her last remaining child, a teenage girl who had wept into a pink rabbit as the weight of the world had crashed onto her. She hadn't taken the book of course, had pushed it back to Chris with an aching sort of smile, she had held it against his chest, folded his hands around the bent and worn pages.

_“There is prodigious strength in sorrow and despair.”_

He doesn't think that's true of himself, he feels like he drowns in his sorrow, or at least he would like to, he doesn't of course, because a friend had once dragged him away from that fate with too much determination for him to throw it all away. It's true for Piers' mother though with her full pretty lips and trembling hands, she places a kiss to her daughters bright blonde hair and offers Chris tea that he has to decline. He realises that he's breaking, he didn't think there was any heart left to bleed but he's in the small hallway in a lovely suburban home and to his right there's a picture of Piers with the family dog and his little sister, they're smiling and for a moment Chris thinks he can feel the warmth of the sun on that day, there's one of the kid enrolling for the military beside the first and Chris almost reaches out to it, almost turns and runs as fast and as far as he can.

“You'll tell me of course,” her voice is smooth and soft and she rings the towel in her hands over and over, “if you find anything,” there's hope in her voice, she's not asking for a body, she's asking for her son walking through the door and Chris was told once not to make promises he couldn't keep. He nods and insists he would, the term they have used of course is missing in action, there's still hope for Florence, but Chris was there and what he saw will stay with him forever.

He leaves with that book tucked under his arm, he drives two miles, before he pulls over and hits out at the steering wheel. He thrashes and screams and curses a God that he has never truly believed in, he's had his fill of turning up on the doorsteps of loving families and tearing their worlds apart. He finds himself starting to wonder when it will be his turn, when will someone be knocking on Claire's door and who will be left to do it.

*********************

Chris feels haunted by Piers Nivans, everything he sees reminds him of the kid, it takes him back to that day in China when they had argued and Chris had slammed him against the wall, Piers had pushed back just enough to make his point. The sniper had found his way under the Captain's skin, becoming this constant welcomed presence. He knew he owed Piers more than he had ever given him, it was a regret that followed him through every day.

He still thinks he could have saved the boy, he could have brought him home, it had been his turn to sacrifice, too many had lost their lives over him.

“You need to stop this self loathing,” Jill states as she sits opposite him at his desk, her still blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. “We can see you're grieving Chris, that's fine, but it's been months, you need to let this go, just a little, just for now. ” He can read between the lines, the soldiers need a Captain not a shell, Piers had taught him how to be himself again but he couldn't quite remember the stories of the legendary Chris Redfield without the younger's guidance, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to be without the conviction in those too green eyes. “This isn't what he wanted for you,” she couldn't have dug the knife any deeper. “Don't make the sacrifice be for nothing.” He thinks of that battered book in his drawer, the pages fragile to the touch, the words harsh to his heart.

“I can't keep doing this,” he whispers his admission, not just to Jill but the ghost of Piers that stands behind her, leaning against the wall his arms folded across his chest.

“Of course you can, you've come this far.” The statement echoes his own almost word for word, almost as if she were there when they had first been spoken. “The BSAA need you Chris, as more than just a veteran stuck behind his desk.” She turns on her heel and leaves the door slamming behind her and that apparition is behind him now, watching as he opens the door and rests a hand atop that battered cover of the one last thing that connects him to his former partner, a shadow of a hand folds over his own and he allows himself to believe he can feel the touch, the mind is a wonderful thing.

****************

He hasn't slept for months, just lies in bed and stares at the ceiling, at the way the cracks in the plaster stay fixed in place, at the spider webs that come and go. He decides to read a little more, the BSAA patch slips from the page he had stopped on all those months ago, his thumb swipes across the embroidery, he imagines the feel of Piers' arm beneath it, allows himself to study the words of the book once again. He falls asleep with the book held against him, the pages resting gently across his skin. He dreams for the first time in so long, not of nightmares and regrets but of Piers sitting in a little bar in some far corner of the world, alive and well, he's cutting into a steak, pressing the fork to his lips. Chris studies him from afar but doesn't dare to move over to him.

_“Nothing that we do, is done in vain. I believe with all my soul that we shall see triumph.”_ The soft tone of Piers' voice washes over him. The younger is stood at Chris' own table now, staring at him with those bright green eyes. “My father loved that book,” he gestures at the open pages before Chris and the elder glances from the papers to the soldier before him, staring at him as though they were two strangers just passing through. “I've had mine since I was a child,”

“I can't know that,” Chris states as Piers takes a seat opposite from him, the kid smiles and shrugs.

“Maybe I mentioned it when you weren't paying attention, seeping into your subconscious, maybe you saw it in my mothers eyes. Maybe it's all just fabricated, you're loosing sight of what's real Chris, why should this be any different?” Chris holds those green eyes,

“I was always paying attention Piers,”

“You're not now,” he pulls the book towards him, his fingertips ghosting across the pages, “You should wake up now.”

He bolts upright, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, the book is closed beside him, an eerie echo of a dream that holds fast in his memory. His phone rings, it's Jill, he fumbles for the phone in the darkness, answers with a curt hello.

“Morning Sunshine, time to haul yourself into HQ, I've got something you might want to see.” She hangs up to stop him from arguing, she knows him far too well. By the time he arrives at HQ the sunlight is kissing the horizon goodbye, beginning it's long ascent. When he steps into his office Jill is sat at his desk, she moves the chair from left to right and taps her fingertips against the desk, she doesn't speak, doesn't even acknowledge him.

“Jill why have you called me here?” he finally asks, too tired to stand and play mind games with her, she usually wins anyway so he figures he may as well skip straight to the end.

“Neo Umbrella,” she states as if that clears everything up, “not as disbanded as we though, Amelia Simmons,” she slides a picture across the desk, a dark haired woman in her mid thirties, she's dressed from head to toe in black, a briefcase in her left hand. Chris goes to interrupt, Jill waves the idea of the question away. “No questions just listen, they have been developing a new virus,” she passes him a picture of a vial, he's seen it before, studies the picture in great length. “It's similar to the one the J'avo use, only the cocoon feature has been vastly improved, Chris they're trying to create the perfect soldier, the perfect controllable army.”

“How do we know this?”

“I had a friend on the inside, I haven't heard from him in a few days, since this,” she slips the USB drive into the computer, it downloads in a matter of moments and files begin to open, DNA structures, tests on infected, files and files of experiments with varying ranges of success.”

“They're trying to reverse the mutations,” Chris states, moving closer to the screen and studying the pictures flashing across the screen.

“Trying being the operative word, the cocooning process helps but is far from perfected, they want to keep the strength elements, but return the human appearance, they want silent assassins.”

“Amelia, what did she used to do?” there's a few files that seem out of place, mechanical looking designs, sample tissues.

“She worked for the military, prosthetics, weapon manufacturing, she has a history in biology, our records don't go back far enough to build a full profile. She's trying to pass this off as a cure, saying they're working to reverse the infection, to heal people.”

“You don't buy it.” It's a statement not a question, she meets his eyes stops tapping her fingers and taps the USB drive.

“If they're so good, why are they trying to hide this, they killed to stop this getting to us Chris, to prevent us from seeing this.” she gestures at the experiments, “They haven't all been failures,” she taps the screen, there's a man stood behind Amelia in the first picture, dressed entirely in black military attire, a helmet concealing his face.

“A bodyguard?”

“The best,” a clip plays out of a horde of infected running towards the mystery male, the room looks similar to a training room, they study the screen as he dodges the first few, slamming into the next with his arm, the creature crumples like a broken doll. He moves quickly, almost dancing around the creatures, taking one out after the other with sheer ease, one is sliced clean in half with a sword, others shot directly in the head whilst dodging another's grapple and vaulting off a previous kill. In the end he stands amidst the carnage, breathing steady and even. “If you're going to start creating super soldiers I guess it's best to begin with your own protection.”

“We need to look into this, I don't care what loopholes we have to jump through, no one in Umbrella is creating anything, we're shutting that lab down.” Jill stands and nods, moving over to her former partner and squeezing his shoulder.

“Good to have you back on board Captain, I've cleared it with HQ we're moving out tomorrow, you lead Alpha team I'll be heading Beta team.” She leaves on that note and he's not sure how he feels about heading into hostile territory with a new team again, considering they are completely unprepared for what they might find, the mission is dangerous, probably deadly. Still he made a promise all that time ago, he can't go back on that now or Jill is right, the sacrifice would have been for nothing, the best gift he can give to Piers is to protect as many lives as he can.

That's how he finds himself arriving in Russia with a new team, he keeps in touch with Jill and her team, keeping tabs on each other's progress. They head to the airport, they have word that Ms Simmons is taking the next flight to Japan, requesting further funding for her experiments. Chris aims to intercept, take her back to HQ for questioning, he doesn't expect what he gets. She arrives with a surrounding of guards, her heels clicking against the floor, she has a briefcase in her hand and she smiles at Chris as she walks towards him, removing her sunglasses and holding out a gloved hand.

“Chris Redfield, I thought you had retired, what do I owe this pleasure boys?” Chris shakes her hand if only not to seem rude, it was never intended to be a hostile meeting.

“We're here to take you into questioning ma'am,” she takes her hand back, folds it next to the other on the handle of her briefcase.

“I think you missed the memo Captain, we're working to fix the mess our sister company made. Now excuse me, I have a meeting to attend,” She goes to move away Chris grabs her arm, pulling her back towards him.

“We would like to ask some questions,” she turns her gaze to him, eyes deadly,

“Arrange an appointment like everyone else Captain Redfield, one of the gentleman will provide you with the details.”

“I'm not asking, Ms Simmons.” She tries to pull her arm back, the grip from the Captain not giving, the annoyance in her eyes is obvious.

“I assume no one told you, Ms Simmons has diplomatic immunity, she doesn't need to go anywhere with anyone, especially not the BSAA.” It's the bodyguard from the videos, still with that helmet up, the black visor reflecting the image of the Captain straight back to himself. “Don't make this messy Captain,” the voice is distorted slightly, but somewhat familiar, there's an ache in Chris' head and he releases his grip. Simmons walks away with a curt goodbye, the bodyguard moves to follow her, Chris grabs his right arm, hard enough to hurt, the guard doesn't flinch.

“What are you?” Chris asks studying the visor,

“A soldier, like you, if you have any more questions Captain I would refer them to your superiors, we have answered them once already.” With that said the other pulls his arm back and follows the rest of the group towards the boarding gate.

“Captain?” one of the soldiers questions, requesting further orders.

“Stand down soldiers, we're heading back to HQ.” He taps his ear piece, “Jill, Simmons has diplomatic immunity we can't touch her, she's boarding the next plane to Japan.”

********************

He gets back to HQ in the dead of the night, sits at his desk long after the arguments with the highest ranking officers are over. He finds solace in a book that doesn't belong to him, turning the pages with care, his fingertips lingering against each fold, his heart aches with each word. It's Jill that interrupts his moment of reprieve, standing in the doorway.

“I've spoken to Reynolds, he doesn't want us to give up on this Chris, but we need proof before we can bring her in, proof that this new front is a cover for something far worse.”

“How are we supposed to get that?”

“I don't have all the answers, but I'm working on it, I'm heading home for now.” She stops and then picks up again as if the rest of the conversation is an afterthought. “That's a good book is it yours?” his hands splays across the cover outlining the picture.

“No, an old friends.”

 

********************

He dreams again that night, same bar, the Piers' that meets him there is slightly different, there's the faintest of scars across his eye, almost unnoticeable in the light, the right eye itself is paler that the other, the pupil slightly slit, there's blue and green in the iris and the rest a gentle white, Chris studies the colours within it. He traces the slight scar with his thumb, soft eyelashes brushing against his skin.

“You're still not seeing the whole picture Chris, it should be so obvious.” He follows the movements of the younger's lips, the way he runs his tongue across them. “I thought you were always paying attention.” He studies the lines of the younger's body in the dim lighting, the way the sleeves are rolled down on his arms, the gloves covering his hands. Chris' hand moves out to the others right, his fingertips brushing against Piers' own. “I'm not what I was, I don't think I'll ever be that person again.”

“You haven't changed from where I'm sitting,” Piers smiles, pulls his hand away, folding his fingers into a fist.

“But you're not seeing the full picture, not yet,” He flickers for a moment, from the Piers in front of him, to the infected Piers crippled with pain, to that kid on his first day, back to the infected version. “How can you fix a monster Chris.”

_“And yet I have had the weakness, and still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you have kindled me, heap of ashes that I am into fire.”_

He's the regular Piers now, with that slightly distorted eye, he smiles at the quote, as though it brings to life some far off memory. Chris reaches out to him, hand tangling into ever so slightly longer brown hair.

“There is no monster in you Piers.”

“They will send me to kill you,” there is pain in those eyes and he stares deep into Chris' soul, through everything that stands as a front to the Captain and straight into his core, the younger had always been able to read him too well.

“What are you talking about?”

“Make me remember...” he all but begs and Chris wakes with the words still echoing in his mind as though moments before they had been whispered into his ear. He's starting to think that he's going mad, that maybe he should mention this to someone, to Jill or Claire. He decides to keep it to himself, to seal the doubts in between the pages of that well loved book, the one he clings to like a lifeline, barely holding together any longer.

******************

They spend months tracking Neo Umbrella, studying their movements, studying Amelia Simmons for any slip up, any mistake. It's Leon that links the patterns first, a small series of controlled infections in each city she had visited in the past several months, quickly contained by her own agents and nothing mentioned further. They keep the information confidential, only a handful of people who have access to discuss the findings, they encrypt their files with the most advanced technology. Chris thinks about his dreams, about what they mean, ignores the slight thought in his mind that they could be more than mere dreams.

He works as hard as he can, late into the nights, he heads out with the teams for surveillance missions, all the while that book travels with him, a constant reminder of what he once was, of what he needs to work towards. It becomes apparent that the net is closing again on the Umbrella corporation, Amelia has avoided several assassination attempts, her own agents working as cannon fodder. Her appearances become less and less, spending most of her time hidden away working with her scientists on experiments that are top secret.

They manage to earn the clearance to move in, an inside source provides them with information on the experiments, on the truth about the test subjects, innocent people infected, taken away and experimented on, creating things far worse than before, trying to make them better, stronger. She becomes careless in her desperation, missing the way they are following her every step.

It takes them too long to convince the powers that be that these experiments pose a greater risk to public health than they offer help. They are instructed to close the labs down, quietly, to bring Simmons into custody for questioning. Chris and Jill once again step forward to lead the teams, the HQ for Amelia is in Japan and they make their way to Kyoto, the journey longer than Chris had been expecting, he doesn't so much read on the way there as study the BSAA patch hidden in the too loved book.

They're dropped into action twenty miles from the lab, Jill's team are moving in from the other side and they flood out around the building, keeping low to the ground. They get close, but not close enough, they assume there's been a tip off and Chris studies as Amelia is rushed to an awaiting helicopter, he steadies his sniper, focusing in the view, his breathing slows, fixes her image in the scope, his finger is poised over the trigger. He's a heartbeat away from pulling the trigger, from watching the body crumple in his scope when the weapon is shot out of his hand, the bullet grazing his fingertips. It takes him a moment to catch up, watches several men hit the floor, he demands for everyone to hit the ground as he tries to find the enemy sniper.

He reaches for his handgun, removes the safety with a practised ease as he studies the field with a steady heartbeat. He notices the bodyguard from before, fires twice and hits the helmet, the visor cracks, the glass like structure buckling slightly yet it holds. Chris shoots again, the guard is before him a moment later, Chris dodges a punch, meets the other blow for blow. A shot is fired at the guard and he readies his weapon, using a well timed kick from Chris to propel him up and over, he moves to shoot the younger but the Captain pulls the targeted soldier out of the way and behind cover just as the bullet breezes past them.

“Jill, Amelia has taken the helicopter, we're under attack, do not loose her,” after that he tells the kid to stay behind cover. He steps out from the cover of the tree, studying the dark figure before him. He ignores the way the bullet breezes past his head, lodging into the tree trunk behind him, the wood cracking and splintering with the force. The assailant studies his weapon for a moment, the kid seizes the moment and moves from behind the cover, shoots at the guard and the bullet catches the right arm, tearing the fabric of the jacket, the guard doesn't flinch, his finger moves to shoot, Chris can tell the bullet will hit his target dead on, he shoots first and the visor cracks further, a pattern of splinters, like shattering ice. He shoots again, again, unloads the whole clip into that visor, the pressure of the bullets enlarging the cracks, weakening the structure. The pieces begin to fleck away, like the cover of that book in his kit bag, he doesn't know what he expects to see beneath the black glass, steels himself for something unrecognisable as a human. As the pieces begin to break away the first thing Chris notices is the familiar green eye, the guard removes the helmet, the other eye is a pale white, the iris has flecks of pale blue and green and the pupil is slightly elongated, there is a small scar running across the eye in a diagonal thin line, barely noticeable in the dim light.

“Piers?” Time seems to stop in that moment, the helmet slips from the others hand, tumbles to the ground with a gentle thud, those mismatched eyes study him, there isn't a piece of recognition there, he hears the crackle from the younger's earpiece, a nod. Piers turns to leave, “Piers, Piers Nivans, stop,” Chris demands, he reloads his gun in one swift move, holds it steady on the younger's form, he hears in his earpiece that the kid to his left has a clear shot at the enemy. He doesn't have time to think, to respond, he moves on autopilot, so that he's in front of his former partner, the bullet hits him in the shoulder, tearing into muscle, Piers' eyes meet his in that moment, he watches the Captain with obvious confusion as he drops to the floor, arm covering where the bullet has pierced. “Go,” he hisses and watches the younger as he moves, disappearing into the darkness, the sounds of heavy boots against solid ground echoing in his head.

“I'm sorry Captain,” the kid explains as he drops beside the elder male, his hands flail as if trying to decide what to do. “I thought... I didn't see you...”

“It's a good thing you're not a better shot kid,” Chris states, he knows the makings of a good sniper, this soldier doesn't have it, he can't control his emotions, can't keep his hands steady in a moment of panic, he needs time, time they don't have in a combat situation. The other laughs slightly, the tension easing from his form, Chris is glad that the other didn't notice him step in front of Piers, didn't watch him take the bullet, didn't hear him telling him to go, Captain's shouldn't assist the enemy, Piers of course is different.

********************

Jill patches him up with all the bedside manner of a robot, she doesn't speak to him as she checks for bullet fragments, cleans out the wound and wraps a bandage around the injury. She slaps him across the shoulder as if to prove a point and watches as he bites his lip against the surge of pain.

“She got away, we were flanked, care to explain what happened to you?” she's angry he can tell this from her stance, the way her arms are folded tightly across her chest. He wants to ask her when she dyed her hair back to brown, doesn't think this is the time or the place, he's always thought the brunette suited her better. Of course he's always had a thing for brunettes, he clenches his hands into fists, trying to chase away memories that he doesn't want.

“Amelia's bodyguard, is Piers, he doesn't remember anything, they sent him to kill me.” She smirks slightly, nods her head as if that explains everything and she takes a seat opposite her former partner.

“Piers Nivans, best sharp shooter the BSAA have had, better than me, better than you, how are you still alive Chris?”

“He missed,” she raises an eyebrow, “missed me, hit all the other targets straight on,” his fists clench even tighter, he doesn't want to think about the sound of the soldiers hitting that field, the sound of the bullets tearing through flesh and skull. There's a look in Jill's eyes that he can't quite read no matter how hard he tries.

“So Richards shot you, whilst aiming for Piers?”

“He's a terrible shot,”

“And you're a terrible liar.” Her eyes are unreadable, “whatever you do Chris, try not to get yourself shot again, now get some rest, we'll talk about this in the morning.” Her smile is warm as she rises from her chair, Chris watches her go, he leans his head back and tries not to drown in the knowledge that Piers is alive. There is no ghost here with him any longer, yet his fingertips yearn for the touch of the other, to feel his flesh, to feel the beat of his heart, know that he is there in flesh and blood and not some twisted torment created from his mind.

**********************

He spends most of his evenings in the following months chasing dead ends and red herrings, he struggles against a desperate selfish need to bring his sniper back. He pushes himself until he can't push any longer, until he falls asleep at his desk, until Jill sends him home with a look reserved only for him. He finished Piers' book some time ago but on some nights, he just brings the book to his lips, holds it in his hands, he tries to find a deeper understanding of his former partner in the hidden meanings of the pages.

For the first time in so many years, Chris finds himself praying to a God that he hasn't believed in since he was a child, it seems foolish in the light of all he has seen to entertain thoughts of a deity, all the twisted horrible things cannot be made by a loving being. Yet in the darkness, he begs that the very being whose existence he has denied returns his soldier to him, safe and well.

******************

Amelia Simmons has been off the radar for months, ever since Japan they haven't been able to pinpoint her location, they've managed to close off a few of the labs they knew that she used, clearing them out and keeping them under BSAA guard, all the information from those labs was heavily encrypted and the best hackers they have are still trying to make sense of the information. Chris paces the room as Jill speaks to the computer techs, she shakes her head in his direction, indicating that there is no new information and he slams the door behind him as he leaves. His frustration bubbles beneath his skin, his hands clenching into fists and lashing out at the nearest wall. He's so fed up of dead ends, he feels like a hunter who is loosing sight of his prey, in reality his greatest concern comes from the feeling of loosing Piers again.

It's weeks later when Jill comes to him, drops a file on his desk and waits expectantly for his questions. She looks tired and he gets the impression that she's working this hard for him, because she can't bare to see him suffer so much.

_'Think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you.'_

It's not completely accurate but he seems to relate so much to that book these days and then from that back to Piers. He reaches for the file, skips through the pages, he glances from the writing up to Jill.

“Amelia Simmons hasn't been well for some time, she has a degenerative disease, she's trying to use the C-Virus to prolong her own life, these experiments are trials for her and others like her with the money to fund them.” There are endless names, endless conditions in the pages and most of them Chris won't pretend to understand, he closes the file, turning his full attention to his companion.

“She uses a private jet from this address to her specialist in England, monthly, to this date.” she taps the information at the front of the file, “if we time this right, we can apprehend her here.”

“If not, we have no authority in England,”

“We have contacts, but we would need more information for them to risk taking her in. Ideally we need to reach her before she boards that plane.” There's determination in her eyes and Chris can see the promise within them, the insistence that she can do this for him, she can bring his soldier home, she can ease some of the pain this endless war has caused. Jill knows better than anyone what it is like to be controlled, made to do things against your own will.

It's weeks before the end of the month, before they can put their meticulous planning into action, they're working as one team, Chris and Jill working as partners once again. They stay out of sight, concealed around the private jet reserved for Amelia's flight to England, they lay in wait for what seems like hours before two groups move towards the plane, dressed entirely in black, there is a figure huddled amongst the main group but he can barely tell one person from another and though he has a suspicion that it's Amelia it's something he cannot guarantee. Jill is studying from the other side, poised and waiting to give the order to move in, guards fan out around the plane as three women dressed in black move up the stairs and into the awaiting plane, a doctor follows closely behind them. In that moment Jill gives the order and they begin to move in, several guards are taken out and although they are all dressed the same Chris can tell exactly which one is Piers.

The sniper doesn't flinch as those around him fall, several more flood in to take their place, all with the same black helmets covering their faces. He steadies his gun, takes out a soldier and Chris hears the bullet ripping skin apart, he hears the thud, he reaches Piers quickly, knocks the gun out of his hand, throws him to the ground, kicking the gun as far away as he can, he takes out two guards whilst the younger catches his bearings, one bullet pierces through a neck, the other hitting into a back. Piers hits him, across the face, hard enough to send the Captain stumbling, he catches his balance and manages to dodge the next blow, catching it with his hand.

“We have a warrant for her arrest Piers call these men off, no one else has to die here.” The visor slides up, those mismatched eyes staring directly into Chris.

“Do you really think she didn't know this would happen, that plane is leaving now, we can't stop it, you can't stop it.” They grapple, it's a messy little fight and Chris thinks they could both try harder at this, Piers pushes the elder, takes a step back, he hits a soldier that gets too close and the blood pours from the others face as he collapses to the floor. Jill almost makes it to the plane, a guard tackles her from behind and they end up on the ground, a blade in the attackers throat, before she can regain her footing the plane begins to take off, the doors closing.

“Damn it!” Chris curses and hits a guard to the ground, shooting a clip into him as he falls, his anger is palpable as he makes his way through the guards that move to him, one makes to shoot him but a hand pulls him out of harms way before firing at the guard, the bullet killing instantly. He follows the gun and the hand back to Piers, a flicker of emotion in the others eyes as they clash with Chris' own. A moment later a fist makes contact with his solar plexus and he folds around Piers right arm, gripping the limb as he falls to his knees. Piers left hand brushes against his ribs, his face is close to the elders own, eyes locked.

“If you're going to London to get her, you're going to need evidence that's a little more concrete. I hope to see you soon, Captain.” There's a slight smile to those full lips, then the visor moves down again and a fist connects with his face, he hits the floor, his vision swimming, Piers takes out another guard just in the corner of his vision, that's the last thing Chris sees before he passes out.

****************

He comes to on a helicopter facing Jill as she wipes blood from her lips, she looks angrier than he's ever seen her but she tries a smile for him as his eyes begin to refocus.

“Good to have you back with us sleeping beauty,” she smirks for a moment then her face falls serious again. “I can't believe we missed that bitch again, I've got a team tracking her so we don't lose her this time and tech team are working on decrypting those files but at the moment we're back to square one.” He has a memory that seems so out of place, the feel of Piers' hand against his side, gentle and warm, he pats down his vest, a small square item in the pocket, he pulls out the SD card, studying it for a moment. Jill is watching him with interest, “Where did you get that,”

“Piers,” he all but whispers, slips the small card into his phone and watches the files that open on his screen as a result. He smirks and runs a hand through his hair, passing the phone to Jill.

“This is great, I'll forward it to Michaels, get him and his team to apprehend the plane when it lands they can make the arrest, this will definitely be enough to convince them.” She presses a few buttons and makes a call to Michaels, once she has the confirmation she needs she passes the phone back to Chris. He allows his head to fall back against the seat, the journey is a long one and he finds himself drifting in and out of sleep, his phone buzzes in his lap and an extract flashes across the screen, he focuses on it for a moment.

_'Not knowing how he lost himself, or how he recovered himself, he may never feel certain of not losing himself again.'_ His heart stops as he reads the extract, he knows the book is still in his kitbag and his very being aches as though he can feel exactly what this means to the younger, and maybe that book did give him some clarity on Piers, did bring them closer in some way, he feels like he knows a little more of the younger's mind when he knows what lies within those pages.

*********************

They take Amelia Simmons into custody and head back to BSAA headquarters, the doctor from before comes with her, her illness has progressed and there are the signs that she has at some point trialled the C-Virus on herself. She doesn't speak through the journey and although tired and weak she puts all of her effort into maintaining her pride, ever the prim and proper young woman she was raised to be. She doesn't talk much but what she does say shows there is a regret to the things she has done but a desperation that fuelled the need to do them.

When they return home they hand Amelia to their supervisors, Jill insists she will stay to ensure the questioning goes smoothly and tells Chris to go home. He doesn't argue, he feels mentally drained and his body aches with a littering of bruises. He goes straight home and though he desires a shower to wash away the memories of the last few days he doesn't quite have the energy to make it there, as far as he gets is the bed and he's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. His phone beeps from the side and he grabs for it blindly, mind slow with sleep, the light from the screen hurts his eyes and it takes him awhile before he can finally read the words, he expects it to be Jill but it's an unknown number.

_'Congratulations on your mission, I suppose this means you owe me, Captain.'_ He's not sure what to think of that message but he falls asleep before he can analyse it much further.

 

******************************

 


	2. Chapter two

Amelia Simmons, it turns out, is very compliant, she gives them the information that they need, she explains that she was only in charge of one division and that there are others who are still trying to use the virus for Bioterrorism. She doesn't have much knowledge of the others, they all report to members of the family that are far higher than she, in the end she had been trying to cure herself, her trials with the C-Virus had led to some mutation around her arms and neck, very subtle but noticeable, she tries to conceal it as best she can. She had been looking into reversing the mutations but hadn't had much success, she mentions a patient that was almost completely healed by the cocooning process, only a few adjustments needed but they had never been able to recreate the success. To Chris she seems almost relieved to be away from it all, he leaves her to the people best qualified to deal with her. 

He finds himself frequently thinking of Piers, wondering what he is doing now that he isn't having to follow Amelia around. He has had no further contact with the younger since that night and it plays heavily on his mind, he knows the kid is starting to remember, at least has some inclination of his life before serving as a guard to the Simmons family, but he doesn't know how much detail or how accurate these memories are. He wants to be there for the younger, to guide him as he had through his amnesia, to support him, repay the favour. 

**********************

 

It's a month later, during one of the rainiest weeks they've known in years, Chris heads home late, the rain is heavy and drenches him in the few minutes it takes to get from the car to the front door and unlock it. The first thing he notices is that the fire is on in the small living room, it crackles as the wood heats, the next is that the book is missing from the table. He immediately reaches for his gun, moving slowly, keeping his back to the wall, he focuses on the figure stood beside the fire, gun steady, finger poised on the trigger ready to fire. 

“I'm unarmed you can check if you'd like.” The figure turns to face him, mismatched eyes shimmering in the light cast out by the fire. There's a gentle smile to the younger's face and that well loved book is supported by his left hand as he moves his arms away from his body to show his statement is correct. He's dressed in a plain long sleeved black top, he's wearing gloves but his coat is draped over one of the chairs next to the fire, the jeans are dark and relatively tight against his legs and he's wearing standard edition military boots. Chris lowers his gun, turning the safety on and placing it back on the table. 

“What are you doing here Piers?” He moves into the living room, closer to the fire, well aware of the chill in the room. 

“I don't really know, I tracked you using the signal from your phone. I don't remember a lot, little bits and pieces, I have this feeling that I can trust you and if I'm honest I don't have anyone else to turn to or more aptly not that I can remember, if there is.” The younger seems nervous as he speaks, his face is flushed slightly and he tries to hide it by staring at the fire, Chris smiles slightly. 

“So you remember me?” 

“Not everything, little pieces and nothing in order but it seems to be more everyday.” He places the book down and bites his lip, moves to grab his coat, “look I'm sorry this is stupid I should go,” he moves to leave but Chris grabs his left arm, stopping him from moving any further. 

“It's fine, how about I make us both a drink and we can sit down and talk.” He watches the conflict play over the younger's face as his hand clenches around his coat. 

“I'd like that, I think,” Chris chuckles slightly and slips the coat from the others grip. 

“Great, then sit, I'll be back in a minute, coffee ok? Still with sugar and cream right?” Piers nods and does as he's told, he sits in front of the fire, wraps his arms around his legs and Chris thinks he looks ridiculously young like that. When Chris returns with the coffee he sits opposite Piers on the floor, the kid is flicking through the book again. 

“This is mine, you kept it?” Chris hands him his coffee, he nods once, “why?” he looks genuinely intrigued as he places the book back on the table, his hands folding around the coffee cup. 

“I guess there was always a part of me that felt I would be giving it back one day.” He still aches to reach out and touch the other, to prove to himself that he is really there, he looks beautiful with the light of the fire dancing across sun kissed skin, the gold of the flames shimmering in the mismatched eyes. 

“I'm sorry about your men and for... you know, everything, Amelia is not a bad woman, she is misguided but she helped me with her experiments so in a way I owe her my life.” There's a far off look in his gaze at that moment, a pain that lingers in the back of his mind. “She was always trying to recreate this apparent success she felt she had with me, but it never worked out the same.” He seems to backtrack for a moment, stares directly at Chris, straight into his eyes, “why are you allowing me to stay here, in your home, why do you trust me?” 

“Should I not?” it's almost like he hadn't been expecting the question, “the way I see it is that you gave your life to save me once, you tried to shoot me and you couldn't, you shot that guard to keep me safe, if you wanted me dead, you've had more than enough chances. You were my right hand man not too long ago, one of the best soldiers I have ever worked with. You're supposed to be on my team, so yeah I trust you.” 

“I remember China, most of it, that BOW, being infected, I remember that very well, some of it blurs, it's not very clear after that for the most part. Sometimes I think it's best that I don't remember a lot of it.” He takes a sip of his coffee and smiles into the cup, savouring the taste as it dances across his tongue, “do you think I could ever come back to the BSAA?” 

“They would need to do checks, tests, but I don't see why not.” Chris doesn't say what he really wants to, that neither of them should be going back, that they should just stay here, in this moment for the rest of their lives, that they've done more than enough for this world and it's people. He finds himself staring at Piers more than he should, studying that small line of a scar that crosses past his right eye, just about touching the tip of a pronounced cheekbone, then up just below his hair line. He watches as his mouth forms around words as he speaks, when his tongue swipes across them when they become a little dry or when he's a little nervous, he's lost track of what's being said as he studies the other's mouth, there's a slight smile there and for a moment Chris remembers that smile being offered to him through glass and locking metal doors. 

“You think too much,” Piers all but whispers and he's closer to Chris than the elder can remember him being, “I should go.” He states and stands in one fluid motion, moves to his coat and slips it on over his shirt, it's another military jacket, the BSAA patches aren't there and Chris can't help thinking it doesn't look quite right without them. He stands, moves closer to Piers, making sure to keep an acceptable distance. 

“You could always stay, there's a spare room upstairs. If you're thinking of coming back to the BSAA you're going to need somewhere stable. Not some little room in a hotel,” Piers studies him with those unmatched eyes, there's this hint of a smile to his lips as he slips his hands into the pockets of his jacket. 

“You should think on that offer a little more Captain,” he loves the way that word forms on those lips, the way that voice says it, honey deep tones. 

“The offer stands, feel free to take me up on it any time, considering I owe you one, this might go some way to making us even.” It's a selfish request, deep down the offer is more for Chris himself, he wants Piers around, wants to keep an eye on him, wants to help him, earn a forgiveness from that part of himself that broke when he lost Piers. 

“I'm still going to let you think on it.” Piers makes his way towards the door and the captain follows him with this burden of a feeling that the soldier is slipping away from him again. They stand in the open doorway like lovestruck teenagers loathsome to say goodbye. 

“You took care of me once Piers, even if you don't remember it, I would like the chance to repay the favour.” 

“Who said I need looking after?” He probably doesn't, he's strong, he's always been so strong, so unbreakable, unflinching in the face of danger, unrelenting, yet there's this broken look in his eyes sometimes, the flicker of a lost little boy who is trying to trace back his memories. “There's a lot you don't know,” 

“I'm willing to listen,” 

“Why? Why are you so accepting, I was shooting at you a few months ago, I killed members of your team, how can you trust me, I don't even trust me.” there's a pool of tears forming against his lash line, the rain is catching across his shoulders, drenching the back of his jacket. 

“Because I know you better than you know yourself at the moment, I know you're the son of Florence and Connor Nivans, I know your favourite colour is blue, that you're favourite book is sitting on my coffee table, that you were willing to give your life for something more than either of us. I know you came through when we needed you, that you trusted that doubt, that feeling in your gut, you're still BSAA Piers, through it all that doesn't go away.” 

“Some would think you foolish.” 

“Some would have said the same of you not too long ago.” 

“I don't remember that person,” 

“Of course you do, I don't see any change,” maybe he is foolish for trusting Piers so readily, maybe he's too desperate to have him back and that's clouding his vision, he knows he wouldn't change any of his decisions this night. He can see his soldier in the doorway, not a guard working for Amelia Simmons, this is the Piers Nivans he knows, the best sniper in the BSAA, the best soldier Chris has ever know, this is his partner, Chris trusted him with his life more than once and he never let his Captain down even when his Captain was less a leader and more a burden. 

“So I guess, I might see you sometime, maybe you can help me with these jumbled memories.” It's the longest goodbye he's had in years and eventually Piers pulls himself away from the door frame, he tugs on his collar, covering his neck from the cold and Chris remembers his scarf, remembers it torn and bloody as his partner battled the infection ravaging his body and begged him to go on without him. Piers looks beautiful in the rain and the dim street lighting, he turns down Chris' offer to drop him off insisting he likes the rain and the elder watches him walk away into the night. 

***************

It takes Piers a few weeks to come round to the idea of leaving the hotel room, he has sessions with the psychologist at the BSAA every few days, there's a hint of PTSD in him, along with the amnesia and the torment caused by the virus and the experiments that followed. He has tests done by one of the doctors, blood samples that confirm he's not contagious or a health risk to any of the soldiers. Chris usually finds him in the shooting range, honing those renowned sniper skills, some of the other soldiers avoid him, uncertain of the eye and the scars across his neck, Piers doesn't seem to mind too much. 

“Why do you always wear the gloves?” His finger trembles on the trigger at the unexpected question and he misses his shot as a result. He doesn't move his gaze from the scope. 

“Amelia hasn't mentioned any of that then.” He hits the next target dead on, “I find that surprising,” Chris wants to see his eyes, to try and read his expression but Piers continues to conceal his gaze in the scope. “You usually can't stop her once she starts talking about her experiments.” 

“You haven't asked to see her.” 

“I don't want to, we weren't friends Chris, we were employer and employee, occasionally lab rat on my part, I did my job because I owed her. They kept a lot of what they did under cover, used medications to keep us pliant, I said she wasn't a bad person but that doesn't make her a good one by default.” He shoots again, the bullet tearing through the centre of the target. 

“What did they do to you Piers, you don't talk about it, to me, to anyone.” He finally pulls away from the gun, back still to the Captain. “You can't keep this bottled up, you can't keep it hidden forever or it will eat away at you, trust me.” 

“I don't know what you want me to say, I remember breaking out of a cocoon, that thing on my right arm was smaller but not salvageable, not normal.” His hands grip the table top and he's still not looking at Chris, “it healed my face, some of my neck and side, not all. I don't remember all of it, I was in and out, I don't know how I ended up in Amelia's lab. There were injections, cures, they helped with the healing,” there's pain in his voice and Chris thinks he should stop him, ease his discomfort but he's stuck in a tangent and the elder wants to hear what he has to say. “They did a lot of surgeries, on my side, skin grafts, they took that thing off my arm, replaced it.” He turns to face Chris, not meeting his eyes he pulls the glove off his right hand, “Amelia specialised in high end prosthetics, this is made from lightweight metals and some form of synthetic muscle, it's wired into my nerves, I can move it, use it like a regular limb.” The hand beneath that glove is black and grey almost metal in look, it has such human qualities to it and moves like a regular appendage. “I don't know the exact terminology, she worked on getting the human body to accept it for years, all subjects have rejected it, all except me, my body accepted it, adapted to it, it's part of me. It doesn't heal like flesh and blood would, it's mechanic for the most part, but it's stronger, more resilient to damage.” 

“Why do you hide it?” Piers looks at him like he's grown an extra head. 

“It's not normal Chris, I don't want people looking at me like I'm a monster or someone to be pitied. I want to be normal, like everyone else.” The younger looks so uncomfortable speaking about it, he pulls the glove back on almost immediately ripping the advanced cybernetic limb from view. 

“I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.” 

“It's fine, I should have told you, I just, I guess I'm a little self conscious about it is all.” he's back to focusing through the sniper scope again, body steady, Chris places a hand on the right shoulder, Piers glances at the way the grip folds around the top of the cybernetic limb, he studies the hand, his head starting to ache. He remembers more around Chris and he can't explain why, the memories are confusing and out of sync and sometimes he thinks a dream or two get caught up amongst the reality and he's finding it difficult to distinguish actual events from fantasy. 

“You know where I am if you need to talk,” Piers nods, still studying that hand lying against his shirt, he stares at the space Chris had filled long after the elder has left. He spends the rest of his day in the range, he doesn't miss a single target. 

It's two days later when Chris opens his front door to see Piers stood in the darkness, there is a chill to the air, a rosy tint to the younger's cheeks, a small bag hooked over his arm. There is a pain in those mismatched eyes, a worry at the soldiers lips. 

“Does your offer still stand?” The captain smiles and nods, steps aside and allows the younger to enter, Piers' arm brushes against him as he walks in, the chill of the younger's skin seeping through to Chris' own flesh. Piers takes a seat in the living room at Chris insistence, dropping his bag beside him, the Captain brings them both a beer and sits beside him, he studies the profile of the younger's face, watching the expressions as they flicker across his features. “I remember Edonia, all of it in painful clarity, I remember how you went missing after, searching for you for six months.” He can tell there is something the younger wants to ask, a question on the tip of his tongue that he struggles to keep behind his lips. 

“That's good, it was a difficult mission, you did well.” Piers turns to face him with those mismatched eyes, there is a conviction that steels him for a moment as he holds his Captain's gaze. 

“Did we ever...” the conviction drops away, he bites his bottom lip and turns his gaze away from the elders, studying the beer bottle in his grasp. 

“Did we what?” Piers chuckles at that and runs a hand through his hair, 

“Nevermind, that answers my question.” Chris finds himself wondering what goes on inside Piers' head, how these memories play out and how they affect him, he seems more and more like himself everyday, it's as though they're turning back the clock, leaving the chaos caused by Haos and Amelia Simmons behind. “Why do you always look at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“Like you're worried about me, waiting for me to fall apart.” 

“Of course I'm worried about you, I worry about all my soldiers.” Piers smiles, a genuine smile that reaches up to his eyes, it causes Chris' heart to still for a moment. 

“You always did care too much, that's why it burdens you so to loose your men.” Their eyes lock for a moment, there should be words that fill the silence but neither is entirely ready to let their guard down completely. “I uh... I'm quite tired, it's been a long day, would you mind if I went to bed?” it sounds strange to Chris' ears and he smiles at the gentle pink flush that crosses his companions cheeks. 

“Of course not, I'll show you to your room,” Piers picks up his bag from the floor and follows Chris to the guest bedroom. The captain leans against the door frame as the younger sets his stuff on the floor by the bed. “If you need anything I'm just next door, the bathroom's across the hall. Help yourself to anything you want.” He turns to leave, Piers' voice stops him but he doesn't turn back. 

“Captain, thank you,” he smiles and nods, heading to his own room. 

******************

Piers has terrible night terrors, some nights Chris waits for them to pass, on occasion he may go and sit beside his soldier, he doesn't always wake the younger, sometimes merely places a hand on a covered shoulder, the small gesture seems to chase the ghosts away. Some nights, when he can't bear to hear the screams he wakes the younger, he doesn't need to ask the other in those moments what he dreams, the pain, the pleas, Chris knows it's to do with the infection, the experiments. Piers is apologetic, he doesn't want to look weak to his Captain, but it eases his suffering to have Chris there, to have someone, when he had been alone he felt as though the dreams were going to drive him mad, feared he may not wake up and be trapped in a continuing loop for the rest of his life. He hasn't told Chris about that, about how tired it makes him, the psychiatrist gave him sleeping pills that he doesn't take due to that very fear. 

Not all the dreams are bad of course, some involve Chris, heated touches and stolen kisses, desperate hands across soft flesh, his body slammed against a wall, covered entirely by the Captain's own. He doesn't speak of these, at some point he thought they may have been real events, they had felt so lifelike, now though he knew they were nothing more than his deepest desires, ones he had kept concealed long before China, before the infection and the spiralling events that had brought them to this moment. Once he may have let himself believe there was a chance between him and his Captain, now though, as the cybernetic arm remains hidden beneath his clothing he can't help thinking that no one would want him now. 

There is a slight distance that grows between them, Chris feels that it comes mostly from Piers' self consciousness in regards to his injuries and fear of looking weak in front of his commanding officer. He tries to discuss it but Piers always brushes the conversation aside, it's obvious to Chris though in the little things the younger does that he isn't comfortable in his own skin. He always wears his gloves and full length sleeves, even to sleep, even when he leaves the bathroom after a shower. The elder doesn't understand it in the slightest. 

*************

It's weeks later, after a long meeting with Jill, when Chris returns home the shower is running, Piers would have got home hours ago. He makes his way up the staircase as the water stops, reaches the landing as the door opens, Piers steps out into the hallway, a pair of jogging bottoms slung low on his hips, feet bare, his hair is still slightly damp from the shower, he is wearing a hoody but it's unzipped and there's no shirt underneath, merely an expanse of toned chest. Chris stares and Piers shifts nervously under his gaze, he tries to conceal his right hand in his sleeve, tugs the right hand side of the hoody across his chest. Chris has had just about enough, he steps forward, pushes the younger's hand away, Piers looks away from him as the Captains hand pushes the hoody down from his right shoulder, his hand ghosting across a collarbone as he does so. 

That cybernetic limb is bolted to him beneath the collarbone, there are plates that join it to flesh, the metal fused to him, it's not harsh or hideous against the skin, it's subtle in the way it joins to the rest of the younger's body. There are scars that runs up onto his neck, a few that run down the right side of his chest, nothing horrific, not what he had expected given the extent of the mutation on the younger. Chris searches out those mismatched eyes, 

“Why do you feel the need to hide this? Why does it concern you so much?” The younger sighs, runs his good hand through his hair and shifts the hoody back up on his shoulder. 

“I can't stand that look you give me when you remember the infection, this look of anger, betrayal and pity all mixed into one. This,” he lifts the arm as if to make a point, “it reminds you of that day and you stare at me differently in those moments, I hate that look. I just want it to be normal, I want to be normal again, this keeps me from that, it's bad enough I can't conceal my eye and the scars very well, but I don't have to keep this on display, they're not war wounds Chris, they're pain, they're horror.” 

“I don't mean to look at you like that, I have a lot of memories that I struggle with, they're not all linked to China.” He finds it difficult to explain what he means, tripping over his words, “you shouldn't feel uncomfortable here, I just, I worry about you sometimes is all.” 

“Well you don't need to, I'm fine.” 

“Are you?” Chris has moved a little bit closer, Piers nods, places his right hand on the elders arm, those cybernetic fingers closing around the elders forearm. 

“I'm getting there,” He smiles, it's a gentle look and those mismatched eyes sparkle slightly, “I'm gonna get changed,” he moves, slipping by Chris and heading into his room. He leaves the door open just enough that Chris can see as he allows the hoody to slide off his shoulders, the muscle well defined across his back. He tears his gaze away and disappears into the bathroom, takes a much needed cold shower, leans his head against the tiles and tries not to let his mind slip to Piers being stood in the same place moments before. 

Piers becomes a lot more open after that, he's not as concerned with hiding the replacement limb when he's in the house or in Chris' presence, yet when he goes out he still wears the sleeves and gloves. Piers doesn't want to be seen as an injured war hero, he just wants to be a soldier, sometimes when they're out Chris notices the glances from people, looking at the eye, the scars, the pity is there, the look the younger must have seen in his own eyes reflected in the gaze of strangers. Chris tries not to think on that too much and if Piers notices the not so subtle looks from bystanders he doesn't show it. 

***************

There is a mission set up to one of the labs owned by the Simmons family, the team will be led by Jill, Chris has already decided that he and Piers are staying behind, he's needed at HQ, as for Piers, Chris isn't quite ready to send him back to the front line. The soldier drops not so subtle hints that he's ready to be deployed, the Captain doesn't entertain the ideas, Jill who can see the motives behind his insistence tends to side with Chris, all smiles and knowing looks that the elder male does his best to ignore. 

It's a few hours after Jill's team have been dispatched that Piers all but storms into his office, the door slams open only to be slammed closed with a force that causes it to rattle on it's hinges. The anger seems to radiate off the younger in almost visible waves, he stands with his back to Chris, his gloved hands poised on either side of the closed door, the elder can tell he's trying to compose himself, the captain merely closes his laptop and waits to hear what the soldier has to stay. 

“You told them not to take me, you said I wasn't ready.” Piers turns to face him, eyes narrowed and deadly, “that's a lie and you know it, I've been nothing but complacent, I've done everything you and the BSAA have asked of me. I've more than earned the right to be part of that team.” The younger is so angry he's shaking, his hands trembling at his sides, his mismatched eyes fixed to Chris' own. 

“It's not the right time, we need people here, I need to be here and we need someone to run the drills for the recruits?” 

“And that's me is it? I'm not a teacher Chris I'm a soldier, I belong in the field, I can't just sit here shooting targets all day.” 

“You haven't got the clearance, you shot some of our men Piers, we can't just move on from that.” Chris keeps his tone steady, even when he rises from his seat moving to the other side of the desk and leaning against it. 

“Bullshit,” Piers is closer now, there is a heat to him that Chris assumes is born from the anger, “I've been signed off by your own psych team. This was no one's decision but yours, so pull all the cards you want but I know what this is about.” Chris chuckles and rolls his eyes at that, studying Piers as the younger paces before him. 

“Really? Why don't you explain it to me Piers?” 

“You don't trust me,” Chris doesn't speak for a moment as the younger looks at him with such conviction, he smirks and runs a hand through his hair. 

“You live in my house, of course I trust you,” 

“Then why Chris?” he steps forward, close now, he's waiting for an answer trying to read it from the expressions on the elders face.

“We're not discussing this here, wait until later.” 

“I deserve an answer, this is my life, I'm a good soldier, a great sniper, I can handle these missions, I was working them before I came back here.”

“Piers, I am not arguing with you, leave it now, we will talk at home.” The younger seems reluctant to leave it at that but Chris doesn't offer him much choice, he won't change his mind. Piers leaves with an extra slam of the door for good measure, the captain smirks to himself slightly, he likes an angry Piers, the way his voice rises but he doesn't shout, the way his body is constantly moving, the adrenaline quick and fast beneath his skin. 

He waits for the younger soldier when he's finished his meetings and paperwork, waits in the car just outside the shooting range. There is no readable emotion to Piers' face when he steps out into the light night rain to see the Captain waiting for him, he slides into the passengers seat, doesn't speak, stares out of his window like an aggravated teen. 

“You're mad at me.” 

“Of course I am, I told you I wanted on that mission,” he's trying so hard to keep his tone even, staring at the side of his captain's face as he drives, he awaits a response. Chris' hands grip the steering wheel slightly tighter at the hint of pain that flickers in and out of the younger's words. 

“Why are you so desperate to get back out there?” the younger is caught off guard with that question, his gaze turns to where his gloved hands are poised in his lap, Chris glances over, watches how the other moves the cybernetic limb, studying it's movements beneath the fabric. He turns his attention back to the road a heartbeat later, awaiting his soldiers response. 

“It's what I know, I feel like I'm doing good when I'm out there, keeping people safe.” 

“Don't you think we've done enough of that?” Chris tries to keep the bitterness from his voice, doesn't succeed very well, he doesn't look at Piers, doesn't want to see the expression that waits for him there. “Do you know what waits for us in the field, death, I've lost countless men to those missions, had to watch you infect yourself and die, I'm not prepared to witness that again.” 

“You don't know that I'm going to die out there,” 

“We always lose someone, it could be me one day, my luck has to be running out.” 

“That's ridiculous you're the legendary Chris Redfield, the best soldier the BSAA has ever had.” there's admiration in the voice, Chris pulls up on the drive, kills the engine, he sits for a moment studying the dark house before him. 

“I'm no legend Piers, I'm flesh and blood like everyone else. If we go on those missions, one of us, both of us, might die, are you prepared for that.” He watches as the words sink through Piers' skin, the conflict in those mismatched eyes, he hasn't thought about it like that before. 

“You know I wouldn't let that happen, I will make sure you get home.” 

“I'm not letting any more soldiers give their lives for me, I'm not letting you give your life for me, not again.” He holds Piers' gaze for a moment, studying the reaction before he leaves the car, slamming the door behind him with enough force to shake the car. Piers follows him, a handful of steps behind, the younger catches up to him inside, grabs his shoulder as the door slams, there's an anger to Piers as Chris turns to face him, harsh and unexpected, Chris notes the grip of that right hand is strong, clenching tightly around the captain's shoulder. 

“Those men felt honoured to lay down their lives for yours,” it's hissed close to his face, the voice low in tone and accusatory, as though he feels Chris isn't grateful for that sacrifice. 

“I don't expect anyone to die for me,” Chris is pushing back now, his hand splayed across Piers' chest, the younger uses the unnatural strength in that cybernetic limb to slam the elder against the wall and keep him pinned there, it's echoes in their memories as a reflection of China. 

“Whatever you think Captain, you have to accept that those men gave their lives for something more than themselves, something they believed in, that was you, regardless of if you feel it's justified or not. You have to accept their decisions, our decisions.” That grip doesn't loosen, Chris knows there will be bruises, he stares his younger companion down. 

“I'm the one that has to live with the memories of it, of countless soldiers dying before me, do you think I don't remember them every single day? I remember the people they were, the way they died, for most it wasn't quick, it wasn't easy. I remember their parents when I tell them the news.” There's a flicker of understanding, it cuts through the others anger quickly, still the grip doesn't let go, “I remember watching you struggling so hard against that virus, watching it tear you apart, the skin ripping away, the pain it caused you and you kept going, you held it back. It gave me this tiny splinter of hope, I thought I could save you, take you back and we could work it all out... but you just let go... the image of you, through the glass of that escape pod, that will stay with me until my dying day, you made me watch you die... I can't be put through that again.” 

“I couldn't go back, there was no way, from the moment I used that virus I knew I wasn't leaving that compound.” There are tears in Piers' eyes, heavy against the lash line, he doesn't blink as he holds them back, his gaze locked to the Captains own. “But you wouldn't go without me, I couldn't let you die with me, we had come so far, so I went with you, I needed to make sure that you were safe, that you got out.” 

'I wish you to know, that you have been the last dream of my soul.' The quote echoes in Chris' head, becoming the only thing he can think of, it's said in Piers' voice but the younger hasn't spoken for a while, he's just staring at his Captain awaiting a response. 

“You could have come with me...” he almost begs, like they're back in that moment and the pain of it all seems so fresh, so real. 

“I was infected, I didn't know how bad it might become, the pain was overwhelming, mind numbing, I wanted it to stop. There was this part of me that wanted to rip you apart, I wasn't safe... it was my decision Chris and I don't regret a moment of it, I would make the same choices if faced with them again.” 

“That's exactly what I'm afraid of, why I can't send you out on those missions.” They're close now, Chris can feels Piers' breath across his flesh, hear the beat of his heart. “How would you feel if our roles were reversed?” Piers has been trying not to think of it like that, he can't imagine Chris not being there, the hero the legend just flickering out of existence. 

“Did you know I always looked up to you, wanted to be just like you, I wanted to become a hero soldiers would talk about, just like they talk about you. When it came down to it, in that oil field, all that mattered was that I made you proud.” Piers moves, his lips brush against Chris' own, a ghost of a touch that the captain could have easily confused for a trick of his imagination. “I won't go, if you don't want me to, but know the same applies for you.” Chris moves, uses his leverage on the younger's forearm to turn them, spinning them around and pinning Piers to the wall. He doesn't think his next actions through, just works on impulse and he forces his lips upon the younger's own. Those full lips are petal soft against his own, they part with a gasp and Chris takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue slipping through the younger's parted teeth, sweeping across his mouth, the taste of Piers is tantalizing, coffee and vanilla and something purely Piers. After a few minutes the younger's tongue begins to move against his own, the kiss becoming desperate and harsh, lips crushing, teeth clashing. 

His hand holds the back of Piers' head, tangling into soft dark hair, the other is still pinning the cybernetic limb to the wall, he slips his hand down, to where the sleeve meets the glove and he tugs on the sleeve pulling it down enough so his hand can wrap about the lightweight metal and prosthetic muscle that makes up the replacement of Piers' right arm. He feels the younger still at the touch, the kiss slowing but neither one willing to stop, eventually Chris pulls away, cups the younger's face with his left hand. 

“And you say I think too much,” Chris smiles, watches as the corners of Piers' lips turn up into a delicate half smirk. He's tracing that high cheekbone, sweeping his thumb across the flesh, he's always found Piers attractive, tried to rationalise the fact for months, tried to avoid it even longer. “Are you ok with this?” he's not sure how to phrase his question properly, it doesn't seem to completely ask his question and yet he can't think of a better way to place the words together. 

“Yeah I am,” Piers' smiles, it's genuine and reaches his eyes and Chris assumes that the expression is a direct result of his poorly phrased question. “I'm sorry, about how I spoke to you earlier Chris,” 

There's a million things Chris could say in response to that, instead of words he allows his fingers to entwine with those of the cybernetic limb. He stares at those mismatched eyes, awaiting a response, a signal from the younger, in the end it's Piers that leads him upstairs. They stumble into Chris' bedroom, Piers deftly removing the elders jacket, his shirt following shortly, they kiss, desperate, harsh, hands grip at flesh and hair, tight and bruising and perfect in the dim light flooding in from the hallway. Piers removes the gloves, they fall silently to the floor, he brings his left hand to Chris' chest, maps the expanse of muscle with his fingertips, it's a few moments later when the cybernetic limb joins it's counterpart on the heated flesh, Chris expects it to be colder, harsher against his skin, he can barely tell the difference. 

Piers stills at the grip on the bottom of his shirt, Chris slips his hands beneath the fabric, running his fingertips across the smooth skin, the soldier relaxes into the touch and a moment later allows his captain to slip the shirt up over his head. There is a flush to the younger's cheeks, his gaze drops slightly, the cybernetic hand clenches into a fist at his side, Chris places a kiss to the corner of his mouth, trails down to the slightly scarred neck, to where the metallic limb connects to flesh, he kisses the combination of skin and metal, watches the way the goosebumps flood across Piers' skin, the way the flush darkens and eyes become heavy. He shouldn't feel the need to tell Piers that he's beautiful, can't stop the words from tumbling past his lips onto heated gently tanned skin. 

The soldier is impatient as all young soldiers are, he uses the extra strength in that cybernetic limb to force Chris to the bed, straddles him a moment later, moves his hips just enough to force a growl from his Captains lips before swallowing it in his own. He smirks and runs his tongue across plump, kiss bruised lips as he makes quick work of the elders belt, slides the trousers down across strong legs, even quicker work of the boxers beneath, his mouth finds his Captain's shaft a moment later and Chris almost looses his mind over the way those perfect lips engulf the flesh. Piers has a talented mouth, the elder struggles to bring him away from his task and back to his lips. He removes Piers' trousers, brings flesh against flesh and hisses into the younger neck at the contact. 

Through the haze of lust he manages to find the lube in his side drawer, uses the leverage to force Piers onto his back beneath him. He watches Piers beneath him, until he's so close, biting those pretty lips and groaning, writhing, then he slowly pushes into the other, all the while he studies Piers' face, touches him, desperate to prove to himself over and over that the other is there, that this is happening and not merely a memory. They move together as one, as if they were created for the purpose of fitting together like this, the cybernetic limb grips at Chris' side, the strength to it leaves harsh scratches against his flesh, he doesn't mind at all, finds it strangely erotic. 

It's much later when they're sated and silent, Chris' hand trailing lazily up and down the younger's side, mapping out the contours of his body, tracing the scars with delicate precision. It's then that it hits Chris, how much he lost when Piers had locked those doors between them. His hand stills and Piers turns his head to look back at his captain. 

“You ok?” his body moves a moment later, his complete attention on the elder male. 

“Yeah I am, for the first time in a long time,” he places a chaste kiss to his companions lips, delicate and a ghost of a touch but there and real and oh so perfect. 

“I would do anything for you,” it's like an admission that slips out and surprises even Piers himself. 

“I'm not letting you sacrifice anything else for me ever,” and Chris means it, there's no more soldiers laying down their lives for him. That insanity ended with Piers, and as his fingers entwine with those cybernetic counterparts of the others, he marvels at how lucky he is to have a second chance. He allows himself to study his lover, everything about him, he wants to stay in this moment forever, let the world fade around them, he's leaving China in the past. 

“What's wrong?” Piers is staring at him, those mismatched eyes watching intently, a slight frown of concern worrying his brow, a wistful smirk tugging at full lips. 

“I wanted to ask, for some time now, that book downstairs that you've carried to hell and back, read a thousand times, the one where the pages just barely hold on, tell me what it means to you, deeper than the ink on the paper.” The smirk turns into a smile and Piers kisses Chris again, a long lingering gesture that hums on the elders lips long after the other has pulled away. 

Piers indulgences him of course, he tells him everything, from the very first day his father gave him the book, Chris hinges on every word, absorbs everything he is told and commits it to memory. He's not willing to loose another moment, another question. 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how I feel about the ending but they so deserve all the happy endings in the world, so here is my take on their happy ending.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be two sections to this story, due to the fact it grew a life of it's own and became much longer than I originally intended, part two should be up in the next few days. 
> 
> I hope this is ok and there are not too many mistakes.


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